


My Time With You is Mine Alone

by icarusforgotten



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Crack, Humour, M/M, some establishe relationship, some pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusforgotten/pseuds/icarusforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unrelated drabbles. Prompts from tumblr. Crack and humour and angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cute

"You are cute when you look like you wanna kill me."

Peter could have sworn he felt the vein at his head pop. “Wade,” he said evenly, and he had to admit, that tone sounded quite deadly, sent a sudden chill down his own spine.

Or, you know, he could have been just feeling the jolts of anger that were racing through him after coming home to a completely wrecked apartment. Apparently Wade felt the need to use all his furniture for target practice. With a water gun. Full of hot sauce. That left _stains_.

"What, you said no weapons in the apartment! You should be very proud of me for holding out this long, Petey, two more seconds and I would have pulled out a pile of grenades so high it would have blown your socks off! Ha! Get it?"

Peter crossed his arms, foot tapping the floor in quick irritation.

"And the water gun?"

"Oh come on! I had to improvise somehow! I was super bored. And your furniture is just _sitting_ there! It looks so dull too. You were in need for some redecorating at some point anyway. I totally just saved you form hundreds of dollars of sleazy New York hipster fakers who think they can walk around with a paint roller and beg for money. No wait, those are probably those people who try to wash your windshield at a stoplight. They totally need to - _hey_!”

The hot sauce gun was ripped out of Wade’s hands. Peter aimed the nozzle right at his masked face. “You have until the count of three to start cleaning all this up, or I swear to god, I will shoot so much hot sauce up your ass you’ll be shitting it out for weeks!”

"If that’s your way of telling me we need more lube, it’s very effective."

Peter groaned. He did not need this right now.


	2. On Top

"I want you to be on top."

Wade looked down at Peter, gaze scrutinizing. “You can’t be serious.”

Peter just pouted up at him, the fucker actually _pouted_. He could see it clearly, even through the mask. And that was even worse, because he could just _imagine_ what he looked like under there right now, with eyes wide and cheeks flushed, teeth grazing his bottom lip in a sinfully slow way.

"Fine," Wade grunted. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

He started to climb the building, scaling the sharp angles of the abandoned warehouse. But as soon as he started to move, Wade felt a dangerous rumbling in his stomach. Then he felt a sharp stabbing at his lower intestine.

He clenched his muscles, releasing a long fart.

"Gross!" Below him, Peter flailed, trying to cover his nose with his hands.

"That’s what you get for wanting to stare at my ass! I told you, I’m not gonna be on top when we have to climb things after we had a taco break!"


	3. I don't know what to tell her

"I don’t know what to tell her."

Peter scooted closer to Wade, arms wrapping around him tightly. He lay his head atop Wade’s chest, listening to the frightfully quick beating of his heart. “Just tell her the truth. It doesn’t have to be all at once. But a little bit at a time. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the honestly.”

Wade sat up, quite abruptly, pushing Peter away. “I can’t … ! I mean, what if she … ” he groaned, bringing his knees up and folding his arms on top of them. He all but slammed his head into the crook of his arms, burying it with a seemingly endless determination. The muscles of his forearms contracted, etching his scarred skin with deep shadows in the moonlit room.

"She’s your daughter," Peter said gently. "I’m sure she’ll understand."

Wade flinched away at the hand Peter tried to sooth across his back.

"She deserves a real father," he said, and Peter could hear the thick catch of emotion in his voice, dark and wavering.


	4. Mouth

"Mouth."

"Excuse me?"

"Gimme your mouth!" Wade was standing before him, radiating heavy energy and tension and something so sinister it was almost amusing.

Almost.

"And why do you need my mouth?" Peter tapped his pencil on his textbook, trying to emphasize the fact that he was pretty occupied with studying at the moment.

He felt the bed dip as Wade crawled in next to him, not in the least bit concerned at the heated glare Peter was throwing him when he shoved his books out of the way.

"I accidentally ate an entire jar of extra hot chili peppers, and it _burns_ , and I really need your mouth to help make this pain go away. You know, for therapeutic reasons.”

Peter didn’t even so much as arch his brow.

"Come _on_ , baby boy! Have some pity here for me! Use your hero morality and apply it to someone in dire need!”

"Uhuh. Yeah. Sure. The only thing you’re in dire need of is a better lie. I said I’ll spend time with you _after_ I’m done studying for my exam. Now out.”

"Not even just a peck?"

“ _Out_!”

"But it _stings_ , Peter, have mercy on my poor lips!”

"You want me to quell the burning? Fine, open up, sugarpie."

Wade’s eyes lit up like it was Canada day, but before he could lean in close enough to steal a kiss, Peter shot a stream of web into his mouth and kicked him off the bed.


	5. Chimichanga

"I wanna chimichanga!"

Peter couldn’t take Wade’s incessant whining anymore. All day long he had been crying about chimichangas, it was driving him up the wall!

"And _I_ want some peace and quiet! It looks like neither of us are getting anything we want tonight,” Peter grumbled. He knew he was being rude. He didn’t care. He was having an earth-shattering migraine, and Wade was by far the fundamental root cause of it.

"But Peter! Think of the children!"

"What children?!"

"Kids are really starting to like me ever since my cartoon came out! Okay, fine, it was _your_ cartoon, but I totally pulled your ratings out of the toilet after I made a feature appearance.”

“ _Wade_!”

"Okay, okay, your ratings weren’t that bad to begin with, sheesh. Though it’s totally your ass that saves you from getting cancelled. Your acting skills are rustier than Ironman’s suit after he’s jacked himself off in it."

No, ew, he did _not_ need that imagery.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I really don’t even want to know. What I _do_ want is to be able to close my eyes and actually rest my brain for a few minutes without your constant interruptions about pining over chimichangas!”

Wade looked at Peter like he had grown a second head.

Before he could say anything, the buzzer to their apartment went off.

"Would you be a dear and get that for me? That’s probably the delivery dude with my chimichangas."

Peter threw his hands up and let out a frustrated yell. He stormed out of the room to get Wade’s stupid chimichangas.

"Open wide," he said bitterly when he came back, and shoved the chimichanga into Wade’s mouth, all in one fluid motion.

That kept him quiet for at least five minutes.


	6. Horny

"I’m feeling horny."

"Then go read a book."

Peter enjoyed the silence for all of two seconds before Wade draped himself across his body.

"How is that gonna solve _this_ problem?” he asked, pushing his half-hard cock against Peter’s back.

"February is ‘I love to read month’ Wade, so how about you read a book to figure it out."

"Or you could help me out in my time of need?" Wade pressed harder against Peter, hand cupping around the curve of his hip.

"Or I could snap your dick off and you won’t have to worry about your little problem for a while."

The hand around Peter’s hip squeezed, fingers digging in harshly.

"Playful tonight, are we?" Wade’s breath skimmed across his ear, sending unwanted shivers down Peter’s spine.

Peter reached back behind him, hand hovering over Wade’s cock.

"Very," he said, and pinched Wade until he begged for mercy and promised to be a good boy.

That worked about as well as teaching a fish to swim through fire, since Wade was groping his ass not five minutes later.


	7. Comic Con

"I said no, Wade."

"But he’s _right there_! That’s _him_!”

Peter rolled his eyes, clasping his hand around Wade’s wrist in irritation. “How many times do I have to tell you - we’re at a _comic book convention_! These people are just dressing up like us and parading around. That is _not_   Captain America!”

"Hey, how are you breaking the fourth wall?"

"The what?"

"The fourth wall! You just said that we are featured in comic books!"

Peter stared at Wade blankly. “Uh … yeah? People turn our missions and battles into comic book format and make a profit from it. Some of them even make up their own stuff as they go along. I mean, this one artist _totally_ got my personality wrong!”

Wade shot him a sly grin. “You’re still raving on about that? Face it sweet cheeks, you’re not as funny as you think you are, at least not like yours truly!”

"Have you not been reading your issues? The only funny thing about you is your fashion sense! I’m surprised the writers don’t explode from being overwhelmed by all your annoying."

"Now, now, Petey," said Wade, shaking his finger in Peter’s face. "If you don’t play nice, I can make myself quite the profit by selling info for your Spidey secret identity."

"Wade," Peter growled in warning.

"Hey look, it’s _Thor_!”

Before Peter could say anything, Wade ran off, tackling the poor cosplayer and running off with his Mjolnir-prop, screaming victory at the top of his lungs.


	8. You're Going to Catch a Cold

 

"You’re going to catch a cold."

"I’ll be fine," mumbled Peter. He was too focused on reading his textbook, hastily comparing it with the notes he’d scribbled in class. The prof of his _Biochemistry of Nucleic Acids_ course always talked _way_ too fast - even for Peter. His hand could barely keep up, and his notes always ended up looking like garbled chicken scratch. They were useless to him if he didn’t transcribe the information right away.

Peter had been sitting in the same position for six hours. He hadn’t eaten, hadn’t rested, hadn’t so much as gone to take a piss. Just stayed hunched in that same position, reading and writing and madly flipping through his papers, like his life depended on it.

It kinda did. He missed his final exam because of the Wrecking Crew. This deferred exam was his last shot at graduating this year. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up.

"Seriously Pete, that’s not healthy," said Wade.

"Hmm?"

"You’re gonna get sick. You’re sitting in a fucking _t-shirt_ for Christ’s sake, and the window is open! At least get your ass up to put on a sweater or something.”

"Yeah, yeah … just a minute … "

He finally, _finally_ found the one page he was looking for -

-and suddenly the book was shut right under his nose.

“ _What the fuck_?!”

Peter was met with Wade’s face, expression blank and cold. It made his heart skip a beat, and not in the good way.

"I’m not gonna let you get sick, Peter. Put. On. Your. _Sweater_.” Each word was slow and calculated, emphasized with the slight curl of Wade’s lip.

"You could have just closed the window," Peter deadpanned.

Wade’s face dropped faster than a speeding bullet. There was a look of resignation in his eyes, of hurt. The realization kind of dawned on him.

Peter laughed. “Come here, you big oaf.”

He pulled Wade into his arms, holding him close. Peter buried his face against Wade’s neck. It was so _warm_ , so comfortable. It was so _Wade_.

Wade’s arms wrapped around him. He let out a quiet whimper of embarrassment. “I just don’t want to see you get sick,” he mumbled, so quiet that Peter almost missed it.

Peter held Wade tighter, gently kissing the expanse of skin along his neck. “I know,” he murmured. _I love you too_.


	9. Handcuffs

"Never knew you had a handcuff kink, Spidey."

Spider-man adjusted the cuffs, tightening them until the metal pinched against Wade’s wrists. “Ooh, betcha like it rough, don’t ya?”

He was silent, impassive, and it wasn’t just because he was wearing his mask. Wade had learned to read Spidey’s features, read their shift beneath the spandex. And now, he looked simply uninterested. 

That kinda hurt. They had an on-going bromance for the better part of three weeks. Their banter was like a promise ring. 

_Maybe the kid finally came to his senses_?

"No, don’t go ruining my fantasy, so not cool!"

**He’s cheating on us with reality. You should probably try and tap some of that for yourself. Might turn out to actually be good.**

"Ew, gross, I’d rather just pretend we’re having a lovers quarrel about domestic things like taking out the dishes or washing the trash."

_Or you insulted his taste buds with your horrible culinary skills._

“ _Hey_! You take that back! My culinary skills are an  _art_ , you’re just jealous you don’t have the same magic touch that I have!”

**Both of you, shut up! We’re not having this argument again.**

"So I win by default. Suck my culinary cock, you rat bastard!"

**Idiot, I said shut up! Haven’t you noticed anything?**

"Like what?" Wade quickly looked around, head darting from side to side. There was no one around. Not even a breeze to lift the clutter from the streets. 

Something dull throbbed in Wade’s chest at the realization that Spider-man had left him alone in the back lane of an abandoned alley, handcuffed to a grimy dumpster. 

"All we did was say hi."

_Stop crying. You know things will never change_. 


	10. Stop Licking Everything

"Stop licking everything, that’s how germs spread!"

Wade paused with his tongue on the spoon. He smirked, swiping his tongue over the cookie batter one last time, meeting Peter’s stern gaze. “Did you forget that I have a healing factor?”

Peter grit his teeth. “That doesn’t mean that bacteria can’t still fester in that disgusting mouth of yours!”

Wade barked out a laugh. “You seemed to like my disgusting mouth last night.” He dropped the spoon back into the batter, taking pleasure in the way Peter’s face twisted with disgust. “In fact,” he said, “I think you liked it a little too much.”

"Really?" Peter deadpanned, arching a brow, the hint of a smirk playing across his lips. 

"Yeah, really." He sauntered over to Peter, slow and predatory, arms snaking around his waist and pulling him close. Peter still had his arms crossed, his stance stiff and rigid. There was a sharp glint in his eyes, something so carnal and vibrant, it sent a jolt of electricity through Wade’s being, spreading slow, like molten heat. 

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order," Peter murmured, voice sultry smooth, bordering on command. 

"I thought you didn’t want my filthy mouth," Wade teased. 

Peter graced him with a full smirk. “I’m willing to make sacrifices,” he said before kissing Wade in a way that was downright  _dirty_ , making him stumble to the floor at Peter’s mercy.   



	11. Death

Death was not a goal Wade could ever achieve.

He tried, oh how he _tried._ But no matter how hard, how long, how _desperately_ he strived to make his ends meet, it was nothing  more than an unattainable dream, a taunting desire that haunted him day after day, night after sleepless night, stringing within him a ceaseless rage that burned as it erupted through his being, sparking all his emotional instability.

Wade hated this.

He hated feeling like an outsider to one of the most basic rights of a person. He hated that he was denied peace, hated that he always came back, hated his misery, his pain, his suffering.

Most of all he hated that no one really understood.

Well, there was Logan, but it wasn’t the same. He had others in his life to distract him.

All Wade had was the recurring inevitability that he would never find solace.

But then he met Peter. Not just Spider-man but _Peter_.

For reasons unknown to Wade, the kid saw something worthwhile in him. Saw him in a ‘better light’, as he liked to put it.

And no matter how much Wade pushed him away, no matter how hard his reflexive impulse to sabotage any chance of happiness he may have, because it was too big of a risk to find happiness in the first place, to get attached, and have it ripped away - and it was _always_ eventually ripped away - Peter kept coming back. Kept squeezing himself into Wade’s heart, kept breaking through all the careful locks Wade had hidden himself behind.

Peter tore at his defences and left him exposed, left him desperate and begging and so very fragile that it hurt.

And it scared him.

Scared him beyond belief, because the one desire he had been working for all this time after having received his healing factor, it was slowly being pushed aside.

Peter had fought his way into Wade’s heart, and Wade wanted him to _stay._

But he knew it could never really last.

Because Peter couldn’t cheat death, and one day he would simply leave Wade behind, longing harder than ever for an end that would never come.


End file.
